


Rosethorn Meets Lark

by Zeyous



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce, Tamora Pierce - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeyous/pseuds/Zeyous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief introduction to Rosethorn, Crane and Lark as they join the Living Circle, and the initial meeting of Rosethorn and Lark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosethorn Meets Lark

Nivalin and Isas left Lightsbridge two years apart. They had spoken about their plans for after their graduation, of course, in the snippy way they did. It was Nivalin who had been the one to bring up her wish to become a Dedicate, even described to him what she knew of temple life. She paid particular tribute to the Living Circle’s interest in medicine, botany and plant magics.  
They had argued about it, too.  
“Do you really want to dedicate yourself to gods, Niva? You have never been pious. Will they want you?” to which Nivalin replied:  
“You know better than that, Isas. Just because I don’t rub your face in my respect for the Green Gods, does not mean I do not have it.”  
Isas adopted that insufferable frown of his. Parent to child, teacher to student. “Isn’t rubbing your face in it the point of Dedication?”

* * *

When Isas graduated, he announced to the gathering of celebrating upper-classmen that he would be joining the Living Circle Temple. There was evident surprise among the audience, not least Niva. Her glare spoke volumes. He had often scoffed at her plan, picking it apart like a bird in a bower. In hindsight, he had asked a lot of questions about the Living Circle too, while they magically identified samples of common illnesses, over a pre-dawn breakfast, or when their minds were calm and bodies entwined to ward off the chill of winter.

* * *

By the time Nivalin arrived at Winding Circle, Isas wore yellow-trimmed robes. They had not written in her final year at Lightsbridge, and both were too stubborn to be the first to break the silence. For a long while, each time they passed each other she turned her head and walked past him without speaking. Isas did the same.  
As novices in a similar field though, there was soon no opportunity to ignore each other. A terse truce fell, which gradually developed into something a little more caring. Every bit of thorn and beak remained in their conversations, and they were more competitive even than they had been at Lightsbridge. Sexual attraction wrapped up in irritation did little to soften Niva’s tone with him.  
Neither spent long as a novice. Their Dedication ceremonies were not long apart. Isas renamed himself Crane, Dedicate of Asaia and the Stormlord. Nivalin became Rosethorn, Dedicate of Mila and the Green Man.

* * *

“I need somewhere for myself.” Rosethorn told Moonstream. She paced the corridor she had ambushed her in. “I need space. A proper garden, not the nonsense Crane is attempting. Force the plants to bloom and fruit out of season? I won’t have a hand in his asinine experiments.”  
Moving Rosethorn to Discipline was Dedicate Moontream’s suggestion. There hadn’t been a student or novice placed there for some time. Rosethorn threw herself into her new home, growing all manner of plants. They were primarily practical vegetables and insect-repelling flowers, though her soft spot for her namesake granted them a place in full sunlight.  
It was high summer the day Rosethorn first met Yali. She remembered that because she had been weeding a particularly stubborn patch of bull grass, and it had taken almost an hour to pull up when she finally went back to it. As it was, she shaded her eyes against the warm sun, squinting a little along the Temple Road. She could tell the strut of Goldeye anywhere, but the slip of rags beside him was new. They looked like they were in a bit of a rush. No doubt. Whomever he was with probably smelled less like roses and more like a chamberpot.  
Moonstream had informed Rosethorn that unusual students were placed at Discipline. She slipped inside and washed her face and hands, then set up a spare bedroom. Just in case.

* * *

Goldeye escorted Yali to the door of Discipline Cottage, and was greeted there by Rosethorn.  
“Come in. Goldeye, are you staying?” When he shook his head, she shooed him out. “She looks like she hasn’t had a decent bite to eat in weeks.” She steered Yali to a seat and sat down opposite her.  
“Ambient magic? Is that what you have?”  
She was an attractive – if underfed – woman not too much younger than Rosethorn herself. She had an outward confidence unusual for slum-dwellers, too.  
“Thread magic, that is what Niklaren tells me.” Yali confirmed.  
Easy to find a teacher for, then. “What’s your name, girl?”  
“Yali.”  
“I’m Rosethorn. Don’t think that because you’re a grown woman and look like a twig you’ll get out of working hard here.”  
“Not for a moment, Dedicate.”

* * *

Yali remained a novice for five years, and in that time Discipline changed drastically. The potted plants covering every surface were moved to shady places outside or artfully placed in out-of-the-way spots. The windows were always open and bore new curtains (woven and embroidered by Yali while she practiced protective signs). A weaving room was set up, too, and the clacking loom often eased Rosethron into sleep. The floor was always swept, and meals were eaten on time. Rosethorn dusted, did dishes and chamberpot duties. The quiet ease of their companionship was a blessing for Rosethorn, who was fighting more and more often when forced to work with Crane.  
Around her new house-mate Rosethorn’s eyes often wandered, and her thoughts were not much better. There was something enchanting about her catlike grace, and she longed to touch the black, shining curls of her hair, so different to her own straight red or Crane’s lanky black. Her skin was fascinating, golden and speckled with freckles like constellations.  
Rosethorn had not been with a woman before. At Lightsbridge things were far less open than Winding Circle when it came to women coupling with other women, and before that she had been carefully restricted by her father. Keeping her glances quick meant she never really noticed that Yali did a few more cartwheels while she was around, or watched her from the corner of her eternally twinkling eyes.

* * *

The smell of mint and marigold was strong the evening that Lark danced for her for the first time. On a flat patch of grass outside of Discipline, Rosethorn’s heart fluttered with the elegant movements of the other woman. The irises were blooming when Lark first caught Rosethorn’s lips with her own in a cheeky, inviting kiss. The ever sure-of-herself Rosethorn shyly offered Lark a rose the next day, and it sat in the centre of the table at dinner. Later, Rosethron was given a headscarf with the same rose embroidered into the fabric.  
When the time came for Yali’s novitiate to end, she dedicated herself to the Gods of the Earth and took the name Lark. With Moonstream and Rosethorn’s agreement, she became the second permanent resident of Discipline cottage.


End file.
